Happily Letter After(20)

We led him out of the park and began the trek back to Birdie’s house.



Once back at the brownstone, Magdalene insisted I stay for a few extra minutes before leaving so that I could taste a dish that she’d been cooking all day in the Crock-Pot. The three of us were at the table and had just finished up the stew when we noticed an odd noise coming from Marmaduke in the next room.

When we got up from our seats, it didn’t take long to realize he was choking on something.

He’s choking.

The dog is choking.

Full-fledged panic set in.

Everything from there on in happened so fast.

I had just been watching a video the other night on what to do if a dog started choking. YouTube had recommended it because it was related to my dog-training search results. I remembered thinking maybe it would be good to watch it, since I’d be taking the dog out one more time. But good God, I never thought I’d have to use any of those skills.

I struggled to remember the instructions from the tutorial as I stepped into action, standing behind the dog and placing my arms around his body.

Think.

Think.

Think.

Making a fist with my left hand, I placed my thumb against his stomach and with my other hand, I pushed upward toward Marmaduke’s shoulders. Unsure if I was doing it correctly, I kept repeating this motion until I heard Magdalene yell, “It’s out!”

“It’s out! It’s out!” Birdie echoed, tears streaming down her face.

Magdalene went to pick the culprit up off the floor. It was a tiny rubber ball, no bigger than the size of a half-dollar.

I’d never been so scared in my life. Poor Birdie was so frightened. I hadn’t really had any time to think about what almost happened.

“You saved Marmaduke’s life,” Birdie cried as she wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck and pressed her cheek against his face. The dog seemed unfazed by what could have happened to him.

I bent down to comfort her. “I only did what anyone would’ve done in that situation.”

Magdalene had her hand on her chest, seeming more rattled than any of us. “I wouldn’t have known what to do, Sadie. Thank goodness you were here.”

The baritone voice from behind literally shook me. “What the hell is going on? Why is Birdie crying?”

No one had noticed until he’d spoken that Sebastian had come home.

Birdie ran to her father. “Daddy, Sadie saved Marmaduke’s life! He was choking on a ball, and she did the hymen remover.”

Did she just say “hymen remover”? Clearly, she meant Heimlich maneuver. I would’ve laughed had he not been giving me the death stare.

Sebastian squinted in confusion. “Who’s Sadie?”

She pointed to me and started talking so fast. “The trainer! She just uses Gretchen for work. Her real name is Sadie, and Marmaduke swallowed the small ball I’d gotten out of the gumball machine at the supermarket the other day. Sadie did this thing to him and it came out. I was so scared. I thought he was gonna die.”

“It was really pretty amazing, Mr. Maxwell,” Magdalene said.

Sebastian looked to me and then back at Birdie before bending down to rub the dog on the head, seeming a bit shaken now that he’d fully absorbed what had just happened.

He looked up at me. “You used the Heimlich maneuver on him?”

God, I didn’t even know what I did. I just remembered the steps from that video and stepped into action.

“Something like that, yes.”

Still kneeling down, Sebastian wrapped his arms around his daughter. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

My eyes focused on his strong hands as he rubbed her back.

“Why don’t you go into the kitchen with Magdalene and have her give you some cookies and milk.” He looked at me as he stood up straight. “Can I have a moment with you, please?”

“Me?” I stupidly said.

“Yes.”

Who the hell else?

“Sure.” I turned to Birdie. “In case I don’t see you again before I leave, it was great meeting you, Birdie.”

“See you next week, Sadie. Don’t kiss any ugly boys.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I might not see her next week.

Wait . . . “might”? Now I was doubting whether I was going to cut things off after today?

I followed Sebastian into his office. It was as intimidating as he was, with dark wood and a dark-brown leather chair behind his large desk.

We stood a good few feet across from each other, and before he could say anything, I started to stammer.

“S-she was just . . . I write for a dating column. I told her that. She . . . That’s why she said that about kissing boys.” I cringed over my own words.

“You’re a writer?”

“Yes. The dog-training thing is . . . extra.”

It’s extra, alright.

He nodded and contemplated my admission for a moment before rubbing his eyes.

“The last thing I needed in this house was that dog. I’d put my foot down for years about not getting one. I work too many damn hours and can hardly keep my daughter alive and healthy, let alone bringing what’s closer to a horse into this house.”

“I understand. It’s a lot of responsibility.”